For Want Of A Theme
by swaggentlemenbird
Summary: snippets about the sofia the first cast based on randomized tropes. inspired from a story on ao3.
1. Chapter 1

_Knock knock_

Sofia waited patiently in front of the sorcerer's door for her invitation in, but it didn't come. She would have been convinced her friend was out for the time being if she didn't recognize some whispering of happenings behind the door. He undoubtedly was in, and even if he was busy he always welcomed her distraction from work.

Sofia knocked again, harder this time, and heard a _thunk_ against the floor followed by a quelled curse. The girl smirked, and lightly tapped the door once more in play mockery, finally entering when a groaned_ "come in" _allowed her to.

"Good evening Mr. Cedric! What are you doing?" she asked politely, indicating towards the box at his feet, the source of the crash she heard earlier, she guessed.

"Nothing really," The older man sighed, leaning over to pick up the crate. "Some of the maids came by earlier to drop this off, asking if I wanted it. Most likely just a bunch of old _junk_ from the attic." That last bit punctuated by Cedric carelessly dumping said box onto the table by the door, a look of annoyance crossing him before he seated himself back at his workstation, back to whatever was inside it. "I'll throw it out later."

Sofia couldn't suppress the small gasp that escaped her. With a chide ready, she strode immediately to the box of old belongings, clutching it like a lost child.

"_Mr. Cedric! _You can't just _throw out _precious memories!"

"_Oh, watch me…" _he challenged, and Sofia didn't need to see his face to know he was grinning, amused at how huffy she got.

She turned to prod at the contents of her defended precious memories, and so far it did look like nothing valuable. _Old notebooks, slightly cracked beakers, seeds, a nice rock._

Still even if Sofia didn't see any surface value, it didn't mean Cedric wouldn't find something worth holding on to. These _were_ his things.

"There's got to be something in here you still want.." Not giving up on the old things, she turned to her friend, eager. "How bout we go through it together, and then we'll see how much of it really is _'junk'_."

Cedric sighed, spinning in his stool to face her, exasperation clear. "You really want me to save _something_, don't you?"

Sofia's head practically bounced off it's shoulders.

"Alright, alright, but I'm only doing this because you'll just ply me with everything in it until I pick something like some kind of little junk lady."

Cedric kicked off his desk, chair rolling past and repositioning him at the table with the box and Sofia.

"Okay, what have we got?" he began, rubbing his hands together.

Sofia smiled. "You tell me, this is your stuff." she picked a small notebook from the pile, holding in her mentor's view. "What's in here?"

Cedric seemed to pale for a minute, before breaking off into stifled laughter, confusing Sofia.

"Open it and see," he managed out between giggles, and Sofia did.

The first page was a half finished table of contents, after was lesson plans, workshop etiquette, and personal reminders and doodles squeezed in between class notes. A Hexley Hall journal, but what was so funny? Going further, the latter half of the book was full blown drawing of crowns, some simple, others heavily decorated with jewels, embroidery, ravens-_of course, _and in different styles. Sofia knew immediately what these were for.

She shot her friend an unamused look, but Cedric was busy clutching himself in laughter. a part of Sofia wanted to give him a good _bonk _on the head for taking his past treachery so lightly, but she wouldn't. He was forgiven for his misdeeds, by the king and more importantly to Cedric, by Sofia. He had made peace with that part of himself, and Sofia couldn't deny she had too. There was no ill will towards him in her body, making the only person she wanted to smack with a book, herself.

"I _am_ sorry…" Cedric managed, coming down from his stupor, though still giggling.

"You don't have to be..." Sofia whispered, and a feeling of somber would have set in if the girl bothered to hide her smile, or the easy laughter that followed it.

After they both had calmed down, she set the journal aside into the designated trash pile. The others too.

"Alright," she punctuated with a clap, getting them back on track. "What's next?"

Cedric collected himself, plucking the rock and tossing it in his hand. "I remember this," he said with a grin. "I once told Wormwood this was a previous raven I had that ran out of magic, and that when he'd run out I'd find another! You should have seen him squawk, it was probably the meanest thing I'd ever done to him..." Cedric trailed off before springing up in his seat. "I'll keep the rock, how bout that? It'll spook him like a cat near a cucumber!"

Sofia shook her head, taking the rock from her mentor and placing it atop the journals.

"As funny as I'm sure it would be, I don't think you want wormwood dropping it on your face when you sleep."

Cedric pondered the consequences for a moment, then ultimately decided that no, he wouldn't stand a chance in a grudge match against wormwood. His raven was a miniature, spiteful version of himself with a moral compass like someone put a magnet on it.

The two friends worked their way down the boxes contents, Cedric recounting their stories if he remembered them, and Sofia listening with nothing but interest, and both cracking jokes.

The box was running low however, but according to Sofia, Cedric would find something eventually, and if not she'd drag another box down from the attic. It was an empty threat, but still, the thought of reliving every moment of his childhood filled him with a desire to snag those seeds from earlier and pretend his grandmother gave them to him on her deathbed. If he poked himself in the eye, maybe he could fake some tears…

"_Well, see anything you feel especially attached to?"_

Cedric grimaced, reaching his hand blindly into the crate, and pulling out an old comb. Some of the prongs were missing.

"No," he smirked at the girl sitting opposite him. "Not really."

Sofia huffed at his stubbornness, making him only grin bigger. Once again he reached in, and pulled out… _something rough._ Cedric looked at what was in his hand, and any trace of a smile was gone from his face. Sofia watched him turn it over, and from what she could see, it was a small chess piece. A knight, crudely painted and worn over time. Its edges were chipped, revealing the wood underneath its tired purple.

She didn't say anything, what came next was fully Cedric's choice, and she waited for him to either talk about it, put it back in the box, or with the journals.

His fingers ran over its harsh wrinkles of old paint, and for a second he made to drop it back in its place, but he stopped himself, and brought it back to his two handed hold. The nail of his thumb paled at its tip, and Sofia wasn't sure if his grip was subconceous or if he was trying to crack the fragile thing.

She wanted to speak, but nothing came out, her mouth wouldn't even open. And after a few more turns in his palm, Cedric placed the horse gently down on the table, in front of him.

He bit his cheek, and tapped his fingers, then in a flurry, dug his hands into the crate, pulling out chess piece after chess piece. A king, a queen, another queen, pawns, and a single rook. Cedric straightened them out, and They sat unbothered on the table for a few minutes, both people in the workshop silent.

Cedric's eyebrows knit together in emotions Sofia couldn't quite decipher, they were coming and going so quick. Her eyes dropped to the pieces, each hand painted, but only two colors. A few were purple, Cedric's, she guessed. The rest were a once vibrant, now faded pink, and right then, Sofia understood what she was looking at.

Cedric must have been waiting for her to figure it herself, if anything, to make his next words easier to voice.

"We used to play together all the time." he whispered, and _there_ was that somber feeling Sofia didn't dare bring to the table. Cedric fiddled with one of the pieces, spinning it. "She was quite good too, i hardly ever won. But when I did,_ oh, she was so proud of me. _Always so supportive.

"After 'the incident', all that, she never wanted to play. Said I could keep the pieces because it was all I'd have left of her."

_Sofia winced._

Cedric chuckled, but it was dry and forced, so far from the carefree laughing of only a few minutes ago. "I took care of her pieces for _so long, _when the paint chipped I repainted and polished them," and Sofia saw the layers under each edge peeled away. "when I didn't want them to get ruined anymore, I bought a small box and put them in it."

From inside the crate, Cedric fished out a small wooden container. Its hinges were ruined, and the leather inside to keep each piece in place was torn and stretched here and there.

"When me and Cordelia would fight, I wanted so badly to break them, but Cordelia did it for me."

Sofia couldn't begin to comprehend the barrage of emotions her mentor must have felt when _that _happened. Shock, fear, anger, regret, shame, despair, too much for a young boy.

"I had just turned fourteen, and I figured_ "Cordelia must have forgiven me by now,'"_

_Sofia cringed._

"I had approached her when we got back home, to the castle. With every perfectly preserved piece, a new board, and a small timer wrapped in a bag,_ I bought it myself, wrapped it myself._ And when she saw me she… she had this look i couldn't describe. Like in that moment she might have regretted all of it, the name calling, the bullying, the stealing. But any epiphany she might have had was overruled by the loss of her beautiful hair, and in anger she knocked the pieces from my hand, they went through the banister, and to the floor below, delicate woodwork and too much paint broke them on impact. She stormed off, I cleaned up the mess, and we didn't see each other for days after. Whatever remained, ended up here I guess."

Sofia wondered briefly, if such a relationship was possible for her and her sister. Amber had bullied her when she first arrived, and who knows, without the amulet's magic, she might still hate her. Hate each other. Would amber_ sneer at her in the halls? Ruin her things? Break her heart when she tried to reach out? Would Sofia?_ It was too easy for all these answers to be yes, but they weren't, and the reality of Cedric's relationship with his sister was suddenly that much more tragic.

"I wonder if I should keep these, I honestly do. I spent so long caring for them, and now they're here, it must be a sign, right?"

"Why not buy a new one?" Sofia said quickly, not letting the silence come in at all. "For you and Miss. Cordelia, like a new beginning."

Cedric thought it over. "I suppose I could, but here I thought you wanted me to keep something from this old box, precious memories and all that," he said, lifting the knight into the air and looking over all its scarring.

Sofia put a hand out, slowly lowering her mentor's holding the purple piece back to the table.

"Nevermind, I was wrong. Sometimes emotional weight is just… _weight."_

Cedric smiled. "Well said, my dear. And if I'm being completely honest, holding these things is like carrying lead."

They shared a laugh, and replaced everything back into the box for it to be disposed of as it should have been.

* * *

sfwtw is still going, but this idea was so fun i just had to do it


	2. pyromaniac

Wendell was bored.

The young wizard had spent a suffered couple of hours wandering the castle gardens alone while his mother sat down for tea with the king and queen in one of the hundreds of parlors.

The Fidgets arrived rather early in the day_-at Wendell's constant pleading,_ only to be told by the stuffy old steward that prince James had already left for school, but that they were both welcome to wait for his return in the castle or around town. Eager to meet the royal family, his mother made him stay, but allowed him the liberty to explore the castle grounds_-supervised, _that is.

Wendell didn't even think it might have been a _"school day"._ Being booted from Hexley Hall so often, he actually forgot other kids had them. His mother had most likely taken off by now, sure to return later for him_-not before James got back hopefully,_ and the guard watching him had already gotten wise to his crying wolf, and wouldn't come running to him anymore.

And just then, a thought hit him.

His mother was gone, and the guard stopped caring.

The little troublemaker felt that familiar tingle of excitement, and gave a testing glance to the veranda where the guard was stationed. He wasn't looking, so Wendell took off quietly to find his own fun elsewhere.

His first trip was to the inside of the castle, to the kitchens to be exact, there was always potential for harm there. It was barely past lunchtime, said the clock, and the staff was currently bustling about said kitchen, putting away meats, fruits and dishes-nothing from his mother's teatime he guessed, she most likely left after an hour or two while Wendell was stranded for seemingly forever. Not wanting to put up with pushy adults, he pocketed a box of matches and snuck away.

There was of course, the biggest potential for chaos in fire. One of the first things he did when his parents got him a wand was light a barn on fire, the first time he was kicked out of Hexley Hall was because he burned a section of the library, the fifth, seventh and maybe eighth were also fire related. Oh yes, fire was classic. And seeing as he didn't have a wand on him-his mother was sure to confiscate it, simple matches would have to do.

Thinking of where potential fun was to be had, he thought. He saw a sorcerer's tower when he arrived. So much delicate equipment and harmful materials in one place was practically begging him to make a mess. He asked the maids for directions, and ignored their warnings of a _"hazardous environment for a little boy", _as soon as he made his way there it would be. He was a sorcerer too after all.

He paced around a bit more, coming to a spiral staircase made of cool stone that stuck out against the smooth, painted walls of the rest of the castle. Wendell ascended the stairs, and before he so much as put a finger on the handle, a loud _**boom**_shook the walls, and left a faint sweet smell.

From the window beside him, Wendell saw heavy colored smoke escaping from somewhere inside the tower, and thinking whoever was inside was surely _dead,_ he ducked low, trying to get a peak of a body crumpled on the floor. He couldn't see much through the fog, and before he rose, the wooden door flew open, letting out more smoke, and a heavily coughing man-the royal sorcerer Wendell presumed, who tripped over him, falling face first onto the floor. Wendell was too shocked at the person's initial survival to laugh.

"_Oh, I'm going to feel that one later,"_ the sorcerer grumbled, rubbing his head. Finally he looked back to see what caused his fall, bemoaning at the realization it was a small child.

"Great, there's another one," said someone behind Wendell, not the sorcerer. The boy turned around and came face to face with a raven, who flew over him to sit on the sorcerer's shoulder.

"_Well, say something boy, what are you doing here?" _demanded the man.

After a bit of silence, Wendell fixed himself with a horrible little smile, intrigued.

"Did your raven just speak?" he asked, getting up and getting closer.

"Yes I did," answered the raven with plenty annoyance, "now how bout you tell us what your doing here, you little tike."

Wendell, believing he found himself some fun, ignored the question, reaching up on his toes to get a better look at the curiosity of a bird, the man backing up at the action, hand raised, almost guarding his pet.

"I want him." Wendell said, with an admittedly creepy affirmation, not helped by his grin.

"Great, another entitled royal brat. We just got rid of the last one." the man nudged his shoulder, giving his pet a _tsk._

"Oh, I'm no royal, I'm a sorcerer, like you," Wendell corrected, indicating to Cedric. "I was dropped off," Wendell refixed his eyes on the raven. "and I rather do like your bird, _I want him."_ he knew his chances of just being handed it were pure dust, he just wanted to see how much he could push the sorcerer for a bit of entertainment. But it wasn't the sorcerer who replied.

"_Well, seeing you're not some king's snot nosed brat, I can comfortably tell you that if you so much as lay one freckled finger on me, I'll bite it off, and you know how important hands are to sorcerers…"_

Wendell liked the bird for much more than just the novelty now. With a bark like that, Wendell might consider _actually_ keeping him.

His fun was cut short though, when the sorcerer rounded him and pushed him along down the stairs and further 'til he came to a door.

"Alright, out with you," chastised the sorcerer. "I've a workshop to clear out, why don't you go-_I dont know,_ play with the horse carriages, pretend you're racing or_ whatever children do!"_

Wendell, seething from the removal, felt like lighting a match right then and throwing it on the sorcerer's robe. Petulantly, he sassed his evictor. _"Not a very good sorcerer are you, if you've exploded your entire workplace."_

"_Not a very good child if your parents dumped you here and took off."_ and like that the door was slammed in Wendell's face and locked. Practically boiling at this point, the young sorcerer plucked from his pocket the matches, and gripped them tight. He'd normally use his wand to seek out retribitution, but it was gone, and all he had were simple matches.

The tower wouldn't burn anyway, it was almost pure stone. But still Wendell wanted to take out his anger on _something._

He looked around, and found himself at the royal stables. There were bits of broken wood scattered around one corner, and some almost whole carriages with them. And suddenly, Wendell decided he_ would _like to play with them.

Sitting on a barrel was a small container of oil, and Wendell made sure to spread it around the broken rides as much as possible, piling every bit of wood he could find.

He plucked the matches from his pocket once more, striking one until it lit, and the grin he got from it was almost feral. He was ready to toss it onto the heap when a trumpet caught his attention, along with the clatter of horse hooves getting louder, and he realized_-James!_

Wendell's eyes met the young prince's excited ones. The carriage barely landed when James jumped out and ran over to him, almost tripping on his way.

"_Wendell, you're here! I thought your parents were too busy," _James practically shouted, squeezing his friend's free hand with both of his.

Wendell was quiet, feeling awkward and ridiculous that james had yet to comment on his attempted arson_-the match was still burning for crying out loud,_ but the boy still didn't seem to care, eyes still big and waiting for a reply.

"I um," Wendell knew his held hand was sweating at this point, "I asked them if we could come anyway, didn't want to be the only way we could talk to be letters."

Either still oblivious to the fire or uncaring, James let his hand go to head inside. _"Come on, there's so much I have to tell you and show you about Chivalry Hall, you'll love it!"_

Oh right, Chivalry hall, James was going there now, Wendell remembers that letter, and all the others he kept in a chest under his bed back home. He looked at the match in his hand, and was surprised his sweaty palms didn't put it out. He looked at the pile of carriage bits covered in oil, and found he didn't care to light it as much as he did to hear James's stories.

Wendell blew out the match, and tossed it on the ground. Rubbing one sweaty palm against a dry one, he wondered if it was at all common for knights and sorcerers to adventure together.

* * *

ya'll slept on wendell herman fidget lll so i gotta do him justice


End file.
